


Thorne in My Side

by idigam



Series: Batman Beyond [1]
Category: Batman Beyond, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Blight, F/M, Richard Thorne, new rogues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9376073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idigam/pseuds/idigam
Summary: Amidst a gang war in Gotham an insidious new player rises.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all; so this is going to be a thing I update while I'm working through the worst snarls in my Wild Hunt fic. As such these will be short three or so chapter fics in an overall series, episodes if you will. I love Batman Beyond and am sad even though it wasn't a short series it felt too short to me. Also I'm still salty as fuck about the Cadmus nonsense so I'm going to do what fanfic writers across the millennium have done. Ignore it. There will be some original rogues added to the gallery, as well as classics like Stalker, Inque, Shriek, Spellbinder, and Blight. I hope you enjoy reading it, I'm having a blast writing it.

                The soft glow of a tablet illuminating an office in one of Neo-Gotham’s smaller skyscrapers provides more light then the dimmers above. The office is sleek, all dark wood paneling, black Italian leather, and one way glass. The man pacing around it frowns at the tablet in his hand while reviewing the shipping news and crime reports. He’s of average height, nondescript face, blond hair that’s just slightly longer on one side of his head than the other, immaculate storm cloud gray suit his preferred dress. _“Jokerz and Ts gang war escalates in docking district.”_ The man makes a disgusted sound, “I hate politics” he announces to the world at large, “Government, corporate, or criminal, it’s all so utterly useless and frustrating.” However, if there’s one thing Richard Thorne hates more than politics it’s inefficiency and mess. The Jokerz and the Ts and their wretched war are both of these things. So with that in mind Richard begins setting up dummy accounts and making overtures to the few friends his grandfather had that are still alive. Also preferably not in prison, but the latter isn’t really a deal breaker. It’s going to be a long night Richard thinks to himself, it’ll be work nonstop the next few months to make sure he’s as distant from the soon to return criminal empire as possible, lest he get a bat problem. Eyuck, bats, unsanitary, why would anyone base their alter-ego off them? Running Thorne Trading and Shipping wasn’t going to happen on its own, but at least the board and the in place bureaucracy will be able to run off its own momentum for a while. _Well, no day like today_ , Thorne thinks as he starts typing furiously across his tablet.

 

***

                Terry is on overtime patrols, the escalation in Jokerz and Ts violence has got the old man in a worse mood than usual. If Terry’s being honest his mood’s been pretty lousy to, but at least he has Dana and Max to cheer him up, heck even Chelsea seemed to be going out of her way to be pleasant. Though that was probably the upcoming homecoming elections talking, _well, whatever works_ Terry thinks as he coasts into the docking districts. Expecting the usual violence to start up at any moment Terry’s surprised to see an unscheduled shipment of unmarked crates coming into port. “Smuggling job, what do you think? Take them out before the night’s contest of which gang can bloody each other’s noses the fastest starts up?” Bruce makes an annoyed sound, “possibly, they’re likely counting on the violence tonight to distract you and Barbara from this, the surprise at least will make them think twice. That said you may need to break off if the fighting starts.” Terry gets it, Bruce hates leaving a job half finished but if it means saving lives versus stopping some illegal goods, priorities have to be made.

 

***

                Terry drops soundlessly behind the dockworker coordinating the ship pulling into Gotham harbor. “Excuse me can I see your shipping permit?” Terry asks in his best batman voice. The worker jumps and whips around stun stick already swinging, _okay basic self-defense for dock workers and criminal scum_ , Terry thinks as he ducks and sweeps with a low kick. Already though there are at least half a dozen dock guards showing up, these guys have stolen or re-purposed combat armor and way more than a stun stick. Terry takes to the air and makes for the shadows, the start as soon as he’s away from the dock worker, _goody mercs_. Terry cloaks once he’s out of sight and drops the first guy fast and hard, the others immediately start firing at where he would have been if he’d stuck around. They started moving into a defensive formation, even cloaked Terry knew he’d be punched full of holes from their weapons as soon as he made to take them out. He’s about to try luring them under one of those crate when an explosion rips through the air and what sounds like the bastard offspring of a rave and a warzone follow it up. The Jokerz and Ts have started their party. The mercs know it to, the lead one has way to much smug confidence it grates on Terry’s nerves. “Hear that batman, sounds like the real party’s elsewhere, so why don’t you go be a hero and let the legitimate businessmen get back to work. “Slag it,” Terry curses, throws a tracker on one of the half unloaded crate before flying towards the chaos unleashed. A couple of the mercenaries take a shot at him while he escapes. _Oh I am so coming back for you dregs,_ he thinks.

 

***

                There are around two dozen total; Jokerz in their garish colors and clown make-up, Ts in matching jackets and white and red face paint. Terry takes a moment to scan the area, at first it seems pretty standard fare. Just more of the usual, a lot more than the usual, but still something that can be handled.. That is until another explosion goes off, and Terry sees the T-tank, a refurbished decommissioned military model that probably “fell off a truck.” This is followed by a focused return fire from a purple suited Joker who’s actually doing a good job emulating the original, something that actually makes Terry a little sick. On a jet-bike no less, with equally military grade set up. It swerves behind a building as the tank begins returning fire. Already Barbra’s Special Forces squads are there trying to lay suppressive fire but the two super weapons are giving her men trouble. Terry looks around, he’s not Bruce, and he doesn’t have a gadget or a plan for everything. What Terry does have is good improve skills and a talent for reading his environment. He cloaks and prepares for the jet biker; right on cue the bastard floats by focused on his tank rival as he is he doesn’t see the small loading crane that Terry’s pushed into the way until it’s too late. Terry however is ready for him and is already piloting the recently abandoned bike. He lands the bike and handcuffs the purple vest creep, then calls the batmobile.

 

***

                Barbara is both glad that Terry isn’t here to get himself killed, but also pissed, she really could use Batman’s help, not that she’ll **_EVER_** say it to his face. She’s about to order a retreat and get some of her own tanks in here to suppress the riot as she can. Already preparing mentally to mop up the bodies and explain to the press the failure of the night. That is until the Jokerz jet bike makes a very precisely placed kamikaze run into the tanks main gun. Destroying the whole forward weapons system and fouling up the tank’s movement. It’s then that Batman decides to swoop out of the sky like an avenging angel burn open the hatch of the tank and throw what could only be a tear gas pellet into the stuffy tank interior before taking off again to swoop through a few fighting members of both gangs knocking them down into a tangled mess of limbs. He then coasts sideways to sweep up one of the Jokerz off her bike, she lets out a shriek before being dropped on another Joker gunman. Rallying GCPD immediately pushes forward with tear gas and riot gear, the remaining rioters scatter, there are injuries, a few scorches, and the people coming out of the tank are very upset and probably wont see straight for a while. Unfortunately there’s no sign of Boss T, or the Jokerz Boss on the Jet Bike. Just a half melted pair of hand cuffs. This is going to be a very long night indeed.

                Terry makes it back to where the mercs and the smugglers were as soon as it’s clear the warring gangs are routed. Not surprisingly they’d scarpered by the time he got there. The freight’s gone too; whoever was driving the boat must have left with the cargo not yet unloaded. “I’m going to do a sweep around the area, see if I can find out anything.” Bruce made a noise of acknowledgment. He followed the wake left by the boat and dropped out of the batmobile onto the deck of the ship. One merc went overboard and the other went down with a strike to the back of the neck.

Terry moves into the cabin. The captain is manning the wheel, it’s a small ship, not made for long voyages so whatever was being shipped was probably coming from relatively nearby. Metropolis or Dakota or a similarly close city; “alright, so you I’m going to tell you right now that I’m about to cripple your ship and contact the coast guard here. What I tell the coast guard is going to depend on what you tell me.” The captain a very large and broad man makes a noise when he turned around. The noise was amusingly high pitched and very incongruous with the rest of his body; it almost makes the run in with the mercs worth it… almost. “Question one; it’s an easy one, where is this cargo coming from?” The captain snarls beat red with rage and embarrassment and lunged at Batman who sidesteps and the uses the guy’s own weight to propel him into the heavy metal door to the cabin. While the man’s dazed and holding his very bloody and probably very broken nose Terry takes the liberty of handcuffing him to the door handle. “I’m sorry that was not the correct answer but do win this year supply of turtle wax. Or you could try for the lightening round and save your sorry ass more trouble.” Terry emphasized this by holding the man in a way that was very awkward and certainly very painful on his handcuffed hand’s shoulder. “My nofe you broke my fuggin nofe,” Terry applied more pressure; there was more yelling, cursing some kicking and finally “Dakota the stuff from Dakota.” Terry nodded sagely and loosened his grip, “good, now let’s see if you can recover the bonus round, what were shipping?” They guy contemplated this “I dunno, the boff din say what.” Terry applies pressure, “I’m sorry that is not the correct answer.” The guy screams “I swear! Idunno nuffink, da boss din tell us nuffink!” Terry eased up, “and who is your boss?” The guy squirms a bit, “I dunno, dey nefer came in person juft meffaged uf, called demfelf da Compofer.” Terry realized that was all he’d get; the guy wasn’t loyal enough to keep anything from him. “Congrats you won a free five to fifteen all expense paid trip to Blackgate state pen.”

 

***

After Terry finishes patrol and tells Bruce what had happened Bruce says he’ll do some digging regarding this new player. That Terry should hit the streets as soon as he can and shake down more people. Terry says sure and makes the usual platitudes before deciding that what Bruce meant by “As soon as you can” was “later after a nice long sleep in his wonderful fluffy bed at home.” If Bruce doesn’t like it he’s free to do something suitably embarrassing, _I’m too tired to continue this whole conscious bullshit_ Terry decides and he’s out as soon as he hits the pillow.

 

***

                Terry is happy, he’s cozy and asleep and nothing could possibly disturb him… Nothing but the overwhelming smell of pancakes and bacon cooking; evil siren that it is has McGinnis sitting bolt upright making a noise that is entirely dignified and no one can prove otherwise. Making his way into the kitchen hoping to avoid the third degree from his mom but still enjoy breakfast Terry is stunned speechless. Standing in his kitchen, over his stove, is not his mom but Dana Tan. “I’m either dead and this is heaven, spellbinder has made an illusion that will drive me to murder once I realize it, I’m still dreaming or-” At which point Dana cuts him off with a smile and a curt “or your amazing girlfriend who is wonderful decided to come in since your mom has an early shift. Got hungry and thought maybe you would like some food when you woke up too.” Terry simply stares at her like she has just performed all the miracles of Christ at once. She looks slightly nonplussed, “I swear, if you start crying I’m giving your share to Matt.” A smaller voice immediately pipes up with “I’ll take his share; I can kick him if you need him to cry for it!” Terry simply knocks his brother on the head in just the right spot to make his eyes water. “You were saying twip?” Matt snarled “jerk” and possibly some words that Terry was going to ignore. “There’s enough for everyone” Dana sighs, “schway” Matt all but yells sibling abuse forgotten.

Breakfast eaten Dana hands Terry a bag, “your new swimsuit, we’re meeting Max, Chelsea, Blade, and her new boy in an hour.” Terry looks in the bag and makes a face, “you know I think Mr. Wayne-” Dana clearly came prepared for this. “Is having a satellite conference at noon and won’t be free until well after one, he also said that you did well enough yesterday to have earned a day off.” Dana stood up cleared the table, and began washing the dishes. “You so don’t deserve her” Matt says simply while finishing his juice, Terry glowers having found a target for his annoyance. “How would you know, you’re like eight, and still think girls have germs or something.” Matt sticks his tongue out at Terry who’s about to kick him under the table when Dana returns, “be nice to him he works hard, and no he doesn’t deserve me but I love him anyway.” She says winking, though who at is up to interpretation. “Ugh, barf, that’s it I’m going to Kenny’s” Matt says scampering off. Terry looks forlornly at the bag and then to his girlfriend pale blue puppy-eyes in full effect. “Don’t make that face, they’re very nice and very expensive.”

 

***

Another descriptor, as Terry was now fully aware, of the offending swim-wear was tight. While not a speedo, the suit did not leave much to the imagination either, if Max and Chelsea’s wolf-whistles were anything to go by. “So who is Blade’s new fling?” Terry asks quietly enough not to be completely tactless; it’s not a skill that comes naturally. Dana shrugs, “attractive and rich, I don’t think Blade has another type.” It may sound catty but considering her track record consisted of Nash, and god, that weird almost thing with Wally after he broke out. What even was that? “Well,” Terry says realizing the answer, “power, not necessarily contingent on looks or money.” Dana tries to glare at him but only ends up laughing. “Yeah I suppose power, if the jocks he leads around by the nose are any indication. I’d say she’s just repeating Nash, but nope, this guy’s pretty much his own thing. Honestly he kind of freaks me; he’s pretty intense in just about everything he does.” Terry looks at her, “you hang out with them a lot?” Dana punches him lightly in the arm, “way more than I want to so you better damn well take some more time off.” Terry thinks about this, “I might have to get you to talk to Wayne for me. He never gives me time off if I just ask.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Composer is tircksy.

Richard Thorne hangs up on the latest round of negotiations, at this rate he’d have to send Sergei to finish the negotiations for him. He sighs and turns to his secretary/bodyguard “I think you may have to go reason with the buyers for me. The Ts are being resistant about the price, the Jokerz are being obstinate for the sake of it, and I don’t even want to discuss Blight.” Collapsing into his chair he flips opens his desk revealing a collection of networked tablets each showing a different image from stock data and shipping reports to criminal activity. Sergei pours two cups of coffee placing one on the small attachment for beverages away from the tech. Then he sips from his own cup, Sergei is built like a fridge with graying hair and a stony face with distinctly Ukrainian features. “Is there anything specific you would like me to mention sir?” His accent faded by years of living in Gotham still provides a strange color to his words. “Blackmail and bribery; mention the price reduction I have planned, and then leverage his new identity, any corporate shark worth his fins will understand the flattery in that.”

***  
As the group wound down for dinner Terry is left alone with the other boy and expected to make small talk. The other man was slightly older than Terry and his friends somewhat wild brown hair and yellow brown eyes. “So, you’re Agnar right? Dana says you’re a freshman at Gotham U.” Blade’s new boyfriend smiles and says “yes, and you’re Terry McGinnis who’d probably be first line Hockey by now if his temper didn’t get the better of him. I was at the try outs you know? Oh don’t look so surprised; my job’s to help our coach scope new talent.” Terry narrows his eyes, the guy is friendly, disarming, and open which immediately makes Terry’s teeth itch, too much time with Bruce. “No worries though, you’re still a good player. Though I hear you’re moving up on your own making connections with Gotham’s most powerful former playboy. Bet the old man has some real stories.” There’s a teasing tone to him that Terry’s had to get used to whenever his bosses storied history with women comes up. “Not as many as you think the old man’s a workaholic, always has been always will be.” Terry shrugs at Agnar’s disappointment “honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if he never dies, just sheer stubborn need to keep working.”  
The girls return from the club clearly annoyed about something. “What’s up?” Chelsea frowns, “apparently the clubs holographic display spazzed out and it’s closed for repairs.” Max looks offended, “I probably could have fixed it for half what their repair guy’s going to charge and I would have gotten us in free.” Terry starts laughing, “just admit you’re mad they didn’t think you could do it, not getting in has nothing to do with it.” Max sticks her tongue out at Terry, whose phone begins to warble. “Sorry guys, that’ll be the old man demanding his ride home from Wayne Towers; see ya.” He kisses Dana good bye then waves to the others while running off.  
As soon as Terry’s in the car he’s ready to don the bat-suit, “what’s up? Jokerz and Ts at it again?” Bruce sighs, “no and Barbara hasn’t gotten anything of substance out of the ones they caught. Though you’ll be happy to hear your old friend Chucko’s apparently the boss’ right hand man.” Terry smiles at this, “so I find and lean on Chucko and I might just find HQ.” Bruce makes a noise that could almost be called approving if looked at in the right lighting. “If you can find him, he seems to have gone underground with the rest after the raid. I’d recommend his old associates, Ghoul or Bonk if you can find him.”

***  
Terry looks across Gotham for signs of either gang but with the exception of low level mooks the streets are quiet. “Wherever they were hiding they were doing a good job of it. I’ve taken down several low level members; all orders from the top have been coming through on burner phones or public call boxes. They’re playing it uncharacteristically safe, especially for the Jokerz.” Terry grumbles into the receiver. “You’ll have to put this on hold there’s been a break in across town; looks like a group of splicers.” The “be careful” went unsaid but Terry had been getting better at picking up the unsaid around Bruce over the last six or so months.

***  
One angry group of splicers down later Terry is limping out of the Batmobile and over to Bruce. Bruce gives Terry a once over, “nothing’s broken I just got grazed by the bull and will probably be bruised for the next week or so.” Bruce nods then jerks his head over towards the small medical station, “there’s cooling patches in there if you want them.” Grateful Terry grabs a few and sticks them to his sides and legs, letting the fast acting chemicals go to work. “I didn’t think I’d see packs of splicers start showing up like that after Chimera folded. Bruce just shakes his head, “Chimera and it’s research labs got bought up, I’m sure at least one of the labs or even just one of the scientists decided that selling the formula on the black market was a good idea.” Terry smiles a wry smile, “yeah, you had to fight a whole two super animal hybrid things right? Tygris, and Manbat, must’ve been tough.” Ignoring the boy’s sarcasm Bruce just stares at the screen, “you should start trying to run down where they got the drugs from, start tonight if you can, go talk to the commissioner.” Terry turns, grumbling and makes his way towards the non-bat company car where he left his street clothes. Bruce calls over his shoulder before the boy’s out of ear-shot “and it was three, you forgot Romulus.”

***  
Richard looks over his finances, with the recent deals with Hong Kong and the lifting of the Malay embargo things were going quite well for T.T&S. Even better if one factors in the money they were getting from the Composer’s efforts distributing splicer serum for its manufacturer. Bringing together those who for whatever reason or another didn’t join the Jokerz or the Ts. That raid the commissioner set up had eliminated many of them but the leaders escaped. What they needed now was the ultimate bait to lure them out of hiding. Something to offer one an edge over the other; and if a profit could be made off the two gang’s mutually assured destruction so much the better. Soon Gotham’s crime scene would belong again to the Thorne family and finally it could be run with something resembling neatness and efficiency.

***  
Terry has just finished shaking down his third major dealer, everything from Russian Snow, to Oriental Blue. Still he’s coming up empty for the splicer serum, and it was really starting to make for a cranky Batman, which luckily only helps out when dangling a petty crook and stoolie over a three story drop. “Listen bats, I don’t know where the stuffs been coming from, there’s a new organization but the leadership doesn’t work the usual way, and they’re very secretive. All I know is that it seems to be run by this ‘Composer’ guy.” That name again, or more accurately that title. Between the dealers, the splicers, and the boat captain all they had to go on was a few dead phone numbers and equally dead temporary accounts. This “Composer” person kept showing up in everyone’s stories but no real connection showed up to them.  
“Old man, you alive?” Terry’s greeting had become clichéd at this point. Damned if he’ll stop now, part of it probably reassures Bruce for all his annoyance that Terry isn’t becoming Dick or Barbara on him. “Yes McGinnis, and if you don’t watch it you’ll find out just how alive I still am. What’d you find out?” Terry shakes his head, “not much, ‘Composer’ again, also that they seem to be running an organization whoever they are. It’s not a simple top down group, every time I reach the top it turns out this was a cell that didn’t know much if anything about anyone else in the organization.” Bruce leans back in his chair, “hmm, whoever this is they’re very careful, it must means two things, they have a lot to lose if anything’s connected to them and that they’re paranoid.” Terry’s tries to disguise his laugh as a coughing fit. “Something you want to add McGinnis?” Terry smiles, “no sir, I could only guess that the man who’s bugged his empty mansion would know what he’s talking about.”

***  
Richard Thorne sneezes into a handkerchief that he immediately throws in the nearest laundry basket. Dialing Sergei, impatiently tapping his foot he waits for Sergei to answer, Sergei will do fine he tries to reassure himself. The man who spent the last twenty years dodging Interpol will be able to handle this and he won’t be killed or worse betray his boss’ location. “Note for later,” he thinks trying to calm his nerves, “no more gang meets for Sergei.” He hears a sigh as the man picks up, “I’m almost there, boss, and you know I won’t be able to answer the phone once I’m meeting with them. Even if it weren’t against conduct and would probably get me killed Blight puts off a lot of electromagnetic radiation when he’s not dampened to kill most electronics. And yes, before you ask, I have studied the report you compiled on him, no I don’t need back-up, and yes I will call in an hour.” Sergei hangs up the phone, Richard decides to lock his in a drawer and go clean and organize his office, library, kitchen and bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place before Return of the Joker, roughly late Season 2/between 2 and 3, that being why Bonk is still alive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Powder keg and a lit fuse.

 

                Sergei adjusts his tie, affixes the blank noh-mask to his face, and enters the nondescript warehouse, a clichéd place for a clandestine meeting, but even in Neo-Gotham there are traditions to observe. Not that they went unchanged, this is a clean warehouse, no rats in the corner or leaky pipes. No this warehouse would be the new location for the illegal distribution of product between the fledgling crime empire and the equally new corporation testing out its less legal products. Assuming this meeting went well, and did not result in Sergei more irradiated than Chernobyl. “Mister Blight,” he greets the man in front of him, “my master hopes that my presence will show his seriousness in dealing with you.” Blight is encased in a bright white radiation suite. This one designed to hold in and harness his unstable meta-human form; it’s also equipped with a crown that projects an illusion of a human face. A new identity to replace the lost face of Derek Powers, something Sergei knew better than to mention. Anyone hoping to deal with Blight would do well to keep mentions of the Batman and their history to a minimum.

                Blight waves a dismissive hand and the corporate security on either side of him lower their weapons; the fact that they still held them left a clear if unstated “for now.” Sergei gets the impression that were Blight’s flesh visible and not a glowing skeletal structure glimpsed from behind the glass of his helmet his eyes would be narrowed. “If that were the case I’d imagine your master would come himself, not send a lackey who may not know his face.” Sergei clears his throat, “I work very closely with the Composer, that I am here shows he is honest in his desire to do more business. That he is not shows that he is neither stupid, nor fickle with his life.” Blight laughs, it’s not a pleasant sound, “no, only yours.” Sergei shrugs; he’s spent too long fighting and dying for something other than himself for a comment like that to affect him. “Perhaps, but my life is valuable enough that your new identity and your relationship to the new Archer and King corporation will come to light should I fail to check in.” Blight stiffens and the security agents raise their weapons, only Blight’s command keeps Sergei alive and forces them to grudgingly lower them. Sergei lets out a barely audible sigh; “do not be surprised my friend, anyone who knows corporate bureaucracy would know that this company may have existed on paper for years but it only now exists as a true entity.”

                “You have earned yourself a reprieve, state your proposal and maybe your master gets you back unharmed.” Sergei smiles beneath the mask, “he is willing to sell you a very rare product for your company to do with as it will. He is willing to be very generous with its price.” Blight makes a dismissive noise, “I got the phone calls. I am interested, assuming the price is right.” Sergei smiles, “half a million.” Blight scoffs, “for how much?” Sergei shrugs, “the whole thing.” Blight is truly surprised now, “you expect me to believe that he’s willing to sell all of it for that little? What’s wrong with it, what aren’t you telling me?” Sergei expected him to be sharp, this is not surprising, “he asks only that once you have produced a stable product the difference in worth is given to our organization in the product its self.” Blight nods, “so that’s his game eh? And what happens if what he’s asking cannot be done? Only one person produced those results and he overdosed himself into life as a lawn ornament. He also didn’t leave any research notes to follow.” Sergei makes gesture like that’s of no concern, “the down payment will be more than enough should that unfortunate thing come to pass. But I would be surprised if your scientists could not replicate a teenager’s work with all we have gained in the last forty years.” Sergei cocks his head to the side, “so do we have a bargain?” Blight now gave the distinct impression of a wolfish smile, though his skull-like visage always bears a grin, his security must have sensed it too because they holster their weapons. “Yes, we have a deal; your master should have his desired results, or at least the first batch to test on humans, in a month.” Sergei nods then he turns and presses a button on the remote to the warehouses main doors, a hover carrier arrives through them bearing a sealed metal canister labeled “Quantum Vapor.” Then Sergei turns back to Blight, “enjoy your new toy.”

 

***

                J.J. is livid. Half his faction of Jokerz rounded up by the commissioner and her pet Bat. Though it’s hardly a surprise, the old one had to deal with this all the time. Still, even if he was the chaos that kept the world moving against Bat’s stability, J.J. will enjoy the day chaos overtakes order and he can finally wring that masked creep’s neck. “Ah, well” he sighs, “better get myself presentable for class, nothing more depressing than a sad clown.” He looks himself over in a full length mirror, chemicals had stained his skin white, he used the strongest dye possible to get dark green hair, a bit more extreme face lifting and he was left with a truly winning smile. Between the chemicals, and cologne that J.J. chose to wear he walked around smelling permanently of licorice. His hair is immaculately combed save a single loose curl, almost a parody of Superman’s signature do; he’s dressed in a bright purple parody of a prep-school uniform. He looks the spitting image of a young privately educated Joker; at least the historical photos and vids would indicate so.

 

                He smiles at his reflection, then his phone rings, it’s a cheery red and white rotary with a cartoon clown on the face whose red nose lights up when a call was coming through. The antique shop charged a fortune for it, but J.J. knew a quality piece when he saw it and made sure that both he and the shop owner left with smiles. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders; attitude is everything even if the other person can’t see you. “A hoi hoi; what can J.J.’s party supplies and emporium do for you today. We have a special offer on our clowning services, but be warned, if you don’t follow the terms and conditions it’ll cost you an arm and a leg.” Chucko walks in at that moment and J.J. holds up his hand indicating the bigger man should be silent. “I have a further proposal for you,” said a heavily modulated voice and J.J.’s smile takes on a much more menacing tone. “Boy did you dial the wrong number, I hope you have a good health plan, you’ll need it just to put your body back together when I find you.” The voice sighs like this is all a tedious chore, “my information was good, it’s not my fault you failed to anticipate the Batman.” J.J. grinds his teeth, “your shoddy information fails to deliver Boss-T gets half my gang thrown in the slammer, and you have the gall. The absolute gall to say I should have predicted it!? Never mind, it doesn’t matter what plan you have, nothing short of time travel will put humpty together again once I push him off his great wall.” The voice is silent for a minute, “Boss-T was supposed to be there, he was delayed by a group of rogue splicers, it seems a few of those rejected by his gang got wind of his presence.”

                Thorne inwardly curses, _and if those idiots had waited until after the fight, Boss-T would be in a box now instead of laying low_. “That doesn’t matter though, I have information that you’ll want to hear. The Ts have given out a lot of money to get their hands on a chemical weapon to give them an edge in the gang war. It’ll likely give them an edge after they’ve wiped you off the map. Assuming of course a concerned citizen doesn’t give their chief rival the drop’s coordinates and timeframe.” J.J. relaxes a little; “oh? Tell then, concerned whistleblower, when, where, and what is this supposed weapon?” Thorne smiles, J.J. will do exactly as he expects, even the fanatically anarchistic Joker follows the basics of human nature. “You pay half what the Ts paid and I give you the coordinates, the number has been set up as a transaction into an unnamed account, pay it and the info’s yours.” J.J. looks at his computer’s message display and whistles “That’s a lot of scratch for Boss-T to be shilling out, a lot of scratch my own spies said he’s paid recently, all right deal.” A soft ping notifies Thorne that the transfer is complete. “The drop will take place at the Martha Wayne memorial park; the time will be one in the morning three weeks from tomorrow, as for the what. I’m sure a historian such as you has heard of Dakota’s Big Bang?” J.J.’s eyes go wide, “oh yes, and that would certainly be worth what I just paid and then some.” Thorne presses a button, “more detailed information has just been sent to you. As always, it’s a pleasure doing business.”

                Thorne hangs up the phone and sips his tea, “make sure that a second shipment is ready as a gesture of apology to the Ts for the one the Jokerz stole. It’s on the house of course.” Sergei chuckles “good thing they paid for twice what they were getting then?” Thorne’s smile becomes sly, “almost as though it were planned that way.” Then he looks at the data across his set up screens, “make sure we have boots on the ground to observe this. We can sell the data to Blight and ensure that the refined product we distribute to our own people is more stable and controlled.” Sergei nods and begins sending out the appropriate texts. “Oh, and make sure the Batman and Commissioner are informed of the blood bath between the Ts and the Jokerz soon enough after that they can mop-up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the first "episode" of my Batman Beyond fic, introducing Richard Thorne, as well as the seeds for the next few rogues.


End file.
